<p>I was feeling very sorry for myself at this point. Other posters luckily reminded me that these moments are poignant and memorable even when we as parents are left lonely for a while. The appendix to the story below is that D and I have discovered IM and talk more now than when she was in high school:). Isn't life great?</p>
<p>"Anyway, thought I'd report back on Aludaughter, the drop off and first days.</p>
<p>In reverse chronological order:</p>
<p>I called her today. She is so busy and then consequently so tired that she falls asleep in minutes. Her new sheets are "awesome." She is not homesick yet at all.</p>
<p>She emailed me within hours of getting back from Outdoor Action, Princeton's pre-orientation hiking trips. She was assigned to the hardest trip on the books, I guess because of all the ballet. She said she has never laughed so hard in all her life, that the other kids, freshman and leaders, were so smart and so funny, and that they all bonded. Plus they had perfect weather. Plus it was beautiful. Only downside was that she couldn't wear stilettos to the dance that followed because her calves were sore.</p>
<p>Now fast rewind to the days before dropoff.</p>
<p>We had the same quandaries as other families. First of all, she's a girl and she wanted to bring a lot of stuff. Second of all, I have girl still in me and liked buying her stuff - sheets, duvet covers, lamps, towels, you name it. So we shipped 8 boxes. And went off to New York with a full set of luggage, maximum we could check in, for a few days of the high life.</p>
<p>Before we left, I said to her, "D, I will probably have to impart some wisdom to you before you go." "Mom," she replied, "You've been imparting wisdom to me for years and what you haven't imparted I can figure out."</p>
<p>New York was about eating, going to the theater, staying in a hotel with a pool on top, and buying her a black winter coat. And the usual mother-daughter bickering.</p>
<p>I was obsessed with being able to move her in to have that moment. However, the drop-off day was Saturday, and UPS didn't deliver on Saturday or have their on-campus truck open. So she and I drove down Friday, got her boxes, dropped off one big suitcase with the sheets, I made her bed, we drove to the Fedex off Route 1 to get the box that hadn't been delivered and went back up to NYC.</p>
<p>The next day was the actual drop-off. Again, usual mother-daughter squabbles. At least I hope they are usual. No stomping, no crying, just a lot of verbal eye-rolling while I kept trying to do whatever she said she wanted to do. This NY trip was my grad present to her, because she said for graduation she just wanted time with me. For those who don't know, I work very very long hours outside the home.</p>
<p>As we left the hotel, she said, "Mom, this isn't going to be big emotions." Made it to campus. Finished the move in with what she had there. Other 8 boxes were yet to arrive. Move in involved my assembling a glass and wrought iron table from Taiwan, with my fingers because H had bought some cool thing that was 101 tools in one but I couldn't figure out how to open it. I am terrible at assembly...</p>
<p>There was a dropoff rehearsal of sorts. Stood outside the gym with 500 freshman waiting to go in and find out who their small groups were. D says, " I hate large groups." Then she notices, "Hey it's so-and-so!" Someone she met in CA. When I suggest she go say hi, she says "Mom, just let me do my watching thing. I am very good at what I do. Maybe it's not the best way but it's my way. It leads to better friendships in the long run." I leave her be. I see her walk into the gym amongst the other kids, I can always spot her hair, it's the color of a penny if the penny were a little bit blonde. As I walk away from the gym, I hear the sounds of hundreds of 17, 18 and 19 years olds cheering eachother on.</p>
<p>We meet up again for a goodbye after her initial registration. I have spent the time at a parent presentation in her residential hall. We leave her dorm room, she in hiking boots, a sun hat, and a backpack that raises over her head. We put our hands on eachother's shoulders. I put my cheek on hers. I hear her breathe. I am so vividly reminded of the first time I heard her heartbeat in utero, just that whooshing of another being's life, so much a part of me and yet destined for her own trajectory. She stands there quietly for two minutes, then says, "OK Mom." I think I said "OK baby." Then she turned around and walked up the hill alone. I walked toward the parking lot then turned around to see her go.</p>
<p>For this goodbye, instead of "Oh Mom you were the greatest Mom I owe you everything.", we bickered as always, planned together as always, held hands. No final poignant words of thanks for me. No tears. Just the sight of a child who has been ready for this day from the time she was six weeks old. My joy in this one comes from her own competence and joy in her own life. From shaking my head in astonishment as she makes her way through the world. And from the emails she has been sending daily, chatting, happy, busy, focused. When she needs me she will call me for support. Funny, I notice she still calls me Mommy. </p>
<p>I can't wait for grandchildren."</p>